When Banner Met Jekyll
by amnaangel12
Summary: It was on a dreary night of November when Bruce Banner realised that he was too tired to deal with this. What happens when Bruce goes to bed in Avengers Tower but wakes up in Victorian London?


It was on a dreary night of November when Bruce Banner realised that he was too tired to deal with this.

"Um, Tony?" He began tiredly, "what on earth are you doing?"

"Science" was the short reply.

"Science?" He repeated sceptically. Standing in front of him was his other 'Science Bro' grinning devilishly as he was building a device that caused the kind of chain reaction that would normally be witnessed in children's cartoons or Home Alone movies with DUM-E, who was uncharacteristically silent, holding a large bucket of what he assumed - and, knowing Tony, hoped - was ice water over an unsuspecting Steve Rodgers.

"Yeah, Capsicle won't see it coming." Tony smirked, "after making fun of my height at breakfast, let's see him waking up to this. Then we'll see who's laughing ."

Bruce paused with an eyebrow raised and his mouth slightly open as if he had something he'd like to say, but then shook his head.

"I'm going to bed Tony."

"Night Brucie."

He made his way to his room and placed his head on the pillow, more than ready to let blissful sleep engulf him.

All of a sudden, he was stirred awake by a cold breeze rushing through him. He tossed and turned, reaching for a blanket only for his hand to feel a rigid surface. Startled, he opened his eyes only to find himself not in the bed he fell asleep on in the tower moments ago, but a vast, unfamiliar landscape.

'Where – where am I?' Bruce thought, finding himself standing in the middle of sinister-looking fog. His bare feet uncomfortably gripping onto the cold, hard, and slightly moist with condensation, cobblestone surface beneath them. Tendrils of wispy white fog circled around him as he squinted his eyes, desperate of getting some sort of idea as to where he is in this space of thick white nothingness. He was still in his night clothes - simple light blue cotton pyjamas (he had been offered Hulk themed pyjamas by a certain someone but he turned it down with a rapid movement of an unamused eyebrow instantly) - so reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pen flashlight was out of the question.

"Who are you?" a voice called out, as the fog cleared to expose a disorganised laboratory with papers littered across the floor. Bruce turned to see a man of pallid complexion with black circles around his dark, tired eyes. His discoloured white shirt was rumpled with buttons haphazardly done in the wrong buttonholes and his dark waistcoat was left wide upon, its sleeves slumping around his shoulders. His dark hair was matted, looking as though frantic fingers had ran through them as wisps of ebony fell past his horror-stricken eyes, some strands curling as they brushed against the rim of his lopsided glasses. He was the very image of a man who had undergone some form of trauma or had just heard devastating news and Bruce could detect a faint quiver in his voice as he spoke, "Who are you and why are you here?" Before he could respond, he was interrupted. "How are you here? I made it clear to Poole that I do not wish to speak to anyone."

"I'm terribly sorry, sir," Bruce responded with as much politeness a man who has no idea what on earth is going on is capable of, "I have no idea how I got here or even where I am." He looked around and started rubbing his eyes as if he thought that if he rubbed hard enough, whatever it is that he's seeing will disappear. "One second I went to bed in the tower and the next I'm here."

"That is certainly… a queer tale," the man said slowly with a raised eyebrow, "had you been speaking to anybody else, you would've been accused for being under the influence witchcraft."

'Wouldn't be the first time,' Bruce thought to himself, remembering the havoc Hulk caused in Johannesburg.

"And you?" He asked.

"Well, I consider myself far more different than the average man. Now, I can think of the cause of your sudden appearance as one of the three of the following: you are either here to burgle - which wouldn't be the wisest decision as this laboratory hardly contains anything of use to anyone else but me, or you are here to murder me - and to that I say that you can go straight ahead, I won't stop you. You'd be doing me an immense favour, actually."

"And, the final reason," Bruce asked as he felt goosebumps crawl up his spine and twist around his arms, and not just because of the lack of heating. He didn't have much luck when it comes to dark-haired British sounding men who speak as if they were brought up on Shakespeare plays and 19th century novels alone.

"That you are but a figment of my imagination," he explained with a wry smile, "a mere form of mockery created by the gods or the devil to laugh at the consequences of my isolation. Not that I'd blame anyone but myself if that were the case; Lanyon said that I've gone mad - that my research was but 'unscientific balderdash' - but I proved him wrong. I accomplished what he said was heresy yet here I am: conversing with an illusion of my own tortured mind."

"Well, if it means anything sir," Bruce said, "I don't feel imaginary. And I can assure you that I am not made up. I am an actual person with a life and friends and career. I just don't know how I came to be here."

"Well, if that is the truth, you wouldn't mind telling me your name."

"I'm Bruce Banner - Dr Bruce Banner," Bruce stuttered in response and was awarded a slight curve of the other's lips.

"'Dr'," he repeated with a raised eyebrow, "well I must say it's a pleasure to meet another man of science. I've seen devilishly little of my fellow colleagues - although that is to be expected given the circumstances - and my closest friends are a lawyer and a fellow scientist I had a falling out with a decade prior. I did have a friend by the name of John Watson who was very well acquainted with medicine although he left to act as an aid to the war in Afghanistan."

"Did you say Dr Watson, as in Dr John Watson?" Bruce asked in surprise.

"Yes, the very one," the man stated matter-of-factly, "are you familiar with him?"

"If you don't mind my asking," Bruce began as every nerve in his body told him that he is very very far away from the tower, "who exactly are you?"

"Me? Well, seeing as you told me your identity, it's only fair that I do the same: my name is Dr Henry Jekyll."

Every ounce of blood drained from the geneticist's face as his eyes widened a considerable amount and his hand flew to cover his open mouth. He knew that name, of course he did. He remembered his mother reading 'The Strange Case' to him as a bedtime story, he himself was the victim of a few Jekyll and Hyde jokes from his teammates.

"You- you- you're," he stuttered.

"Well, I must confess that I've never brought upon a reaction like this before," Henry stated.

"I'm not in New York," Bruce said quietly to himself but the other occupant of the room heard anyway.

"No, you are not. Quite far from it actually. Although one does begin to wonder how you managed to get from New York in America to London."

Just as Bruce was about to reply, he heard some form of commotion outside. He glanced outside of a fogged up window to see unfocused figures that resembled people walking in a synchronised cluster along the street.

"Ah, it seems that the ceremonies have begun."

Bruce swivelled his head towards the other doctor.

"'Ceremonies'?" He inquired.

"A rather prominent member of society has recently passed. Hence, the en-masse funeral party," he replied nodding his dishevelled head towards the window.

"Oh. Did you not like him or something?"

"What? Of course, I did. He is - was - a very a respectable gentleman of strong moral upbringing. It's very difficult to dislike such a character."

"Then why..." Bruce trailed off, faking bewilderment when he knew the answer.

"Am I not out there?" At Bruce's nod he sighed audibly and said, "I fear that I may do more harm than good. I feel that I cannot bring myself to leave - that, that God has forsaken me. If he has, I do not blame him for I had challenged him in a way that no man should challenge him and I am now paying the consequences."

"I see. The man that passed was murdered, murdered by a man named Mr Hyde, who just so happens to be Henry Jekyll."

Henry's body spasmed in shock, his head turning so swiftly it caused whiplash. His already pale face drained so quickly of the little colour it had left that Bruce thought that he would go transparent as his dark eyes possessed a look that was even more haunted than what he was wearing previously.

"What?" He breathed, his hoarse voice coming out as a breathy whisper. He was panting slightly as his heart was hammering a storm in his chest. No, he couldn't possibly. "What did you just say? What do you mean?!"

"I am saying," Bruce began slowly, "that I know that you are Hyde."

"H-Ho-How could you possibly?" Henry looked at him as if he was staring at the devil himself.

"I'm not from around here."

"That much I've gathered."

"Well, where I come from, you're a literary character - everyone knows about you, even the people that haven't read the book know the story of the doctor who transforms into Mr Hyde. Myself, especially."

"How so?"

"You can say that I know where you come from."

"In what way?"

"I can transform into someone else as well and not in a I'm-a-completely-different-person-when-I-drink way more of a I-actually-turn-into-a-different-creature-entirely kind of way."

"What do you mean?" Dr Jekyll asked in bewilderment.

"My field of study is Biochemistry and Nuclear Physics. One day I was conducting an experiment on gamma radiation and needless to say it went wrong. I was no longer just Dr Bruce Banner; the high levels of exposure caused me to transform into and share my body with a monster. Most people call him The Hulk."

"Fascinating. And what catalyses your transformation, Dr Banner?"

"Anger. Or an elevated heart rate to be exact."

They stood in silence for a moment

"Do you enjoy it? Transforming into... the Hulk?"

Bruce screwed up his face, disgust towards the Hulk's actions, what that monster did to him and his career, spelled out so clearly on his face that even the illiterate could read it. How could anyone enjoy turning into a green rage machine?

"No, not at all. All the other guy does is cause destruction and chaos."

"Ah, you see, that's the difference between you and me: you detest the consequences of your transformation and judging by that look of distaste written on your face. I, however, adored being Hyde. I relished the thought of being able to act without a care of the consequences, without the burden of society and its ever judgemental occupants. It was a drug to me - the carefree and euphoric attitude it gifted me addicted me like opium. Hulk was a creation of an experiment gone wrong but Hyde is the result of an experiment gone right - somewhat. But of course it all went wrong, of course it did. It was a marvellous feeling - being Edward Hyde - until he had to murder someone. He had caused harm before - he once trampled a young lady - but his victims were able to recover, albeit the abuse they had undergone. But Sir Carew - God rest his soul. At least Hyde can't hurt him now. He will never harm anyone ever again."

"You seem so sure of that," Bruce stated, "you think you can control him?"

"Yes," was the confident reply, "

"I know your story, I know how it ends. You die. Suicide. Swallow a flask of poison to end it all. But do you want to know what happens? You die but not as Henry Jekyll, you die in the body of Edward Hyde."

"Well if that's how I go, there's nothing I can do."

"But don't you want to change it? To have your happy ending."

"Is that not a happy ending? To finally be free from Hyde and the horror and torment he inflicts? Yes, it would result in death but I would rather the ending of my life than the endangerment of everyone else's."

Bruce paused before sighing and muttering, "I've attempted suicide before." Henry looked at him quizzically, "I hit a really low point in my life: I lost my career, my friends, my life's work, practically my whole life was stolen from me because of one science experiment gone wrong. I just wanted, needed it to end so I tried to shoot myself. My - er - alter ego wasn't pleased. He spat out the bullet then destroyed the gun as well as my living room."

"How do you live now? Knowing that he is still inside of you and you cannot get rid of him."

"As much as I hate it, I've come to accept the truth: Hulk is a part of me the same way Hyde is a part if you."

"No." Henry whispered darkly, "he is not me and shall never be me."

"But he is you," Bruce countered, "He's your darker, hidden side. Your worst traits and deepest desires personified."

"He's a monster."

"You created him."

"Yes. I did. And I can end him if I so wish."

"Or you can ask for help."

"Help? What sort of help can I get?"

"I don't know but if you tell someone, at least you know that you aren't alone. After the Hulk, I spent years in isolation, I started a new life in the rural parts of India to make sure I was kept out of stressful environments. Then, because I never get what I want, I was roped into one of the most stressful jobs on the planet and my colleagues didn't really get along with each other to begin with. But then they did, they accepted me and helped me with my transformations, and even though they can be kind of annoying at times, I'm rather fond of them. I may have been doomed to never have a family but I gained friends that considered me apart of theirs and I will always be grateful for that. You may not get help if you tell the people you care about but you will get support."

"I fear that they may shun me if I tell them. Not that I would blame them. I don't deserve a companion like Utterson: he's far too kind to be associated with a man who transforms into a murderer." He groaned and rubbed his head, "I feel like I'll just abandon all science." Then he gasped in epiphany. "Yes. I'll abandon my research. I'll rid of any new books that come my way. I'll shun science from my life together. Then I'll integrate myself back into society, throw parties like I once did, become closer to religion. I'll act as if Hyde never existed, as if I never creates that wretched potion, and all will be well."

Bruce opened his mouth to say something when he felt odd. He looked down at his abdomen to see that it was slowly by slowly becoming more translucent, as his hands slowly started to fade.

"Well, it seems to be that it is your time to depart, Doctor."

"Yeah it is," Bruce whispered as he could see the fog start to rise again, "It was an honour meeting you Doctor Jekyll."

"The same to you Doctor Banner. And thank you."

"Dr BANNER! DR BANNER!"

Bruce woke up from his - rather strange - dream with a start as the incessant thuds of knocking resonated through the room. He groggily opened the door and, wiping the tiredness from his eyes, was met with a panting teenager brunette wearing a red and blue suit that was clutching a backpack.

"I'm terribly sorry for waking you Dr Banner, sir, it's just that I have this essay due tomorrow for chemistry and I was wondering if you can help me, of course if you are too busy its alright since I came here unnannouced but I was so busy on patrol that I didn't have enough time to write it and oh my gosh I just woke you up Bruce Banner to help me with my science homework, I'm so stupid, I should just go, I'm sorry for troubling you sir, I'll just leave you've probably got more important things to do instead of wasting your time with me and-"

Bruce held up a hand to stop the rambling boy from running out of oxygen - how the hell was he able to speak so fast?

"Peter," he smiled, "I would love to help you."

**Infinity War, who?**


End file.
